


Bad Luck

by Zig_Zag_F1



Series: You Love Him [17]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst, Brazil 2019, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy, Frustration, Hurt/Comfort, Interlagos 2019, Kissing, M/M, No Sex, No Smut, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 09:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zig_Zag_F1/pseuds/Zig_Zag_F1
Summary: Alex deals with the aftermath of being hit by Lewis and George comes to check on him.(Interlagos, Brazil, 2019.)
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell
Series: You Love Him [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497221
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> SO WTF WTF that was a race!!! AND I'm so happy for Carlos and Pierre!! (And Max, but it's not his first podium or win, so not as much.)  
BUT fuckkkk, I was so not okay with Alex's race being ruined by Hamilton! Not okay, not cool, and his race radio was so heartbreaking. Alex deserved a podium in Brazil, ya'll.  
I'm not over it, and probably won't be for a while, so here's a thing I wrote because argh. 
> 
> [I don't know why but the song You Love Him by Brighten made me want to write things based on each line so here I am. You don't have to listen to the song though, or read the fics in order.
> 
> This is line 17, if anyone cares to know.]

_"Maybe_ they'll_ think it's all my fault_

_When it's not my fault at all."_

"FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK! FUCKING CHOKE ON A BAG OF DICKS!"

There was another slam to the wall that reverberated through the garage. 

"FUCK! FUCK YOU LEWIS HAMILTON!"

Another clang, followed by a thump. 

No one in the garage moved, not sure what to do, not sure what to say. Throughout all the courses of angry drivers and ranting, enraged men, they'd all seen plenty of displays of frustration that far out-rivaled the one currently taking place, but this was just not the same. Max was easy, he was often aggressive and an absolute terror after a bad session, sure, but they were so used to his antics that by now eye-rolls and sighs were all the reaction they ever offered. 

But this was not Max, this was Alex. And Alex was always so sweet, so kind to everyone, so full of laughter and positive words. No one knew what to say when he walked in, helmet still on to cover his emotions, ignoring everyone who tried to comfort him or offer any encouragement. He slammed the door to his driver room, and no one tried to join him. Since then, they'd all been frozen, eyeing each other nervously while they tried to continue duties with the background noise of Alex's clearly overwhelming disappointment and frustration. 

They tried to convince each other and reassure one another with some platitudes, but it sounded hollow.

"He'll be okay."

"Just give him some time."

"That was such bad luck."

"I'm sure he just needs to let off some steam."

No one on Alex's side of the garage really could figure out what to feel. Happiness for Max was there, sure, but definitely dampened by the misfortune of their cheery new driver. But there was nothing to be done, so they just went about finishing up their work and celebrating Max's win as respectfully as possible.

Inside his room, Alex threw his helmet against the wall and buried his face in his hands. 

There was a knock on the door, soft and gentle. "Alex, honey, it's your mom."

Alex didn't answer. 

"Alex, will you let me in?"

Steadying his voice, Alex called out an answer as lightly as he could. "I just need some space right now, Mom, okay?"

There was a pause, and Alex felt guilty for turning her away, but after a moment, she replied gently, "Okay, son. I'll be out in the motorhome when you're ready to come out."

"Thanks mom." Alex's voice was muffled, but he was glad when he heard his mother's footsteps fading. He just wanted to wallow in his misery right now, thank you very much. 

_Fucking Lewis. Thinks he's so great and awesome and can do no wrong. "You don't see me crash into anyone hardly ever" he says. Well, maybe that's because you're too used to being out in front with no competition, motherfucker. Take your comments and stuff them up your ass, you self-righteous diva prick._

Alex clinched his teeth, his hands balling up into fists again involuntarily, even though his knuckles were already bleeding from his earlier punch to the wall. He wanted to punch more things, _(especially you, Lewis Hamilton!)_ but he didn't. He just squeezed until his knuckles were white. 

There was another knock on the door. 

"What?!" Alex demanded, a little more sharply than he meant to.

"Hey," said a familiar voice softly. "It's me."

Alex drew a long breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see anyone right now, he really wasn't, but he also did sort of want to open the door and let George come in. Let George comfort him, or talk to him, or whatever. But he also wanted to be alone, or at least, that's what he thought he wanted right now. He stared around the room, realizing he didn't know what he would do alone here either, except for take out his frustration on the blank walls and sparse furniture.

"Can I come in?" George asked, still softly.

Alex debated with himself for another several seconds while George waited in silence on the other side of the door. Alex was suddenly aware of how heavy his breathing was. "Yeah," he said finally, standing up and opening the locked door for George before walking back over to his folding chair seat and slumping down again. 

George let himself in quietly and shut the door behind him, even locking it again before leaning against it and looking at Alex. "Hey," he greeted lightly, voice not much above a whisper. "You okay?"

Alex looked down at his bloody knuckles. His hands were shaking. 

George followed his gaze. He crossed the room and knelt down in front of Alex and took Alex's hands in his. Slowly, he brushed his fingers over Alex's, calming the shaking until it was barely noticeable. Alex closed his eyes, breath still heavy with emotion and exertion and exhaustion. George didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say, even though he knew how frustrated Alex must be. Sometimes, he figured, it was better not to say anything. 

When his knees got tired, he pulled the other folding chair next to Alex and sat down in it. His arm snaked out and curled around Alex's shoulders, gently rubbing up and down for a moment before he pulled Alex towards him. Alex let himself fall limply against George's shoulder and George wrapped his arms around him and rested his cheek on Alex's head. Alex's breath was still heavy and fast. He didn't speak. 

George swayed side to side a little, unconsciously rocking Alex. 

"I'm not a baby, you don't have to rock me," Alex muttered. 

"Shhh," George responded without stopping. "Shhhhhh."

Alex did shhh. He just let George hold him for what seemed like too long, but he didn't want to move.

George planted a barely there kiss to his forehead and he involuntarily sighed.

"I'm so sorry that happened," George whispered above him. 

Alex exhaled deeply. "I just...they keep talking about how I left him too much room. I shouldn't have let him get that close. Fuccckkk, I should've..."

"Shhhhh," George shushed him again. "It's not your fault, it's Lewis' fault. He hit you like fucking dumbass."

Alex almost smirked at that, but his mind was too keyed up. "Red Bull is gonna blame me for leaving the door open for him."

"That just makes it worse for Lewis. You left him lots of room and he still hit you! It's not on you, Alex. It's not."

Alex didn't answer. George kissed his forehead again. Alex tasted sweaty and salty, but he didn't care. It wasn't a new taste.

Alex raised his head and caught George's lips for just a fraction of a second, eyes closed, and George raised his hand to Alex's cheek. 

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered, leaning his forehead forward to touch Alex's and meet his eyes. "It's not your fault, and you'll be up there before you know it. I know it for sure." He smiled widely.

Alex forced a smile back and fumbled for George's hand, catching it and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Of course. Always," George answered, squeezing his hand back. Their eyes met again and George was relieved to see a little spark back in Alex's brown eyes. 

"I still want to punch Hamilton though," Alex told him. "Fuck that son of a..."

"Shhhhhh," George reacted quickly, crushing Alex in another hug and holding him tightly for a few moments. "You're going to get angry again. Let's finish this weekend first, okay? And after that, if you want, I'll punch Lewis for you."

Alex snorted. "You're too polite."

"And you'd apologize immediately afterwards and you know it," George retorted. 

"Probably," Alex admitted in a low voice. "That's what I do."

"I know, and I love you," George answered against his hair. "But let's avoid making that kind of apology, okay?"

"Okay," Alex sighed. They just stood like that, Alex stowing away the last of his frustration as George held him. Then he gently broke away from George's hold and forced another grin, this one looking slightly more real. "I should probably come out. The team will worry."

"Yes, you should," George agreed. "But only if you're ready."

Alex took a deep breath. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I can do this."

George smiled encouragingly and gave him a thumb's up. "I know you can. Go out there and congratulate Max and smile and talk to people. We can finish this later and you can let it all out, okay? I promise."

"Okay. Let's do it."

George put his hand on the door handle. "Sure?"

Alex nodded quickly. George squeezed his hand one last time and opened the door, looking out quickly left and right. Then he snuck out to the left and Alex went right, heading back into the garage. 

His garage teammates were relieved to see him come out, smiling again. They flowed past him, offering words of support and kindness, and Alex relaxed as he saw they didn't blame him, feeling relieved.

By the time Lewis showed up a short time later to apologize, Alex was smiley, gracious, and cheery as if nothing had happened. Over Lewis' shoulder, he made eye contact with George for the briefest of seconds, and George winked. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know it's short, but I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Of course it's just fiction based off the events, and please don't copy or post anywhere else.


End file.
